Blood
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: A more brutal take on the Swan Queen relationship; when Emma crosses the line, Regina comes at her full fire, leading to the discovery of darker tastes/ fantasies for both women. Contains bloodplay, violence, rough sex.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Good morning children. I did try and make the story description as clear as possible, but just in case; yes, this fic contains blood and violence of a sexual nature. This is something I've wanted to do for a long while now, but am aware that a lot of readers for my longer fics may not want this kind of subject matter introduced in those stories as it isn't to their taste and wasn't what they signed up for. So, this may seem a little different from my usual writing, but I hope some of you like it as it's been eating away at me for a long long long time now :) _

_Oh, and it may not seem like it right now, but yes, this is Swan Queen._

_I've uploaded this first part as a prologue/ teaser as I typed it up on my phone and that's the easiest for me, but the chapters will be longer, and you'll get one tonight :) _

_Enjoy! And please review!_

* * *

PROLOGUE:

Scarlet painted fingers clutch needfully at blood red leather; roaming and exploring the chilled, unyielding fabric, before slipping deftly into the warmth promised beneath.

A paper white dove reciprocates; playing distractedly through the coarse fur lining of a crimson hood, only to journey north to get lost within thick waves of dye-streaked chocolate that look almost black with night.

All further movements are harried- desperate- and both women will discover a fair litter of bruises come morning, as each seems set on having her way with the other.

The slight clumsiness that taints their rapidly heating display speaks of liquor, and, when the blonde hooks an arm around the younger woman's neck as the latter turns them fully to back her up against the wall, an amber glass bottle dangles perilously from between slim fingers.

A slow trail of a pointed tongue down pallid flesh and the bottle falls; shattering into a glittering pattern of cruel shards.

A hand dips into a fur lined pocket- unmindful of the damage-and retrieves a gleam of silver that catches the glow of the streetlights maddeningly.

Finding the slot she seeks by touch and memory of her time spent boarding above the Diner alone, the Sheriff fumbles the keys into the lock and twists; never once breaking contact with the woman that lavishes her lips with her own while skilled fingers offer up sweet attention elsewhere.

Finally achieving success, the heavy door of the old building swings softly open; swallowing blonde and brunette into darkness.

The scattered remains of the forgotten bottle tremble just once as peeling paint comes once more to a close.

Across the street, full lips form a thin line.

The sharp clicks of black stilettos on rain washed tarmac resonate like gunshots, disappearing into the distance.

And then all is still.

Silent.

Peaceful.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Sorry this wasn't up last night; I seem to have underestimated my social life! More to come soon. Please review :)_

* * *

When the Sheriff glances down at her phone after catching the flicker of the screen alerting her to the fact she has a message, she isn't wholly surprised as she spies whom the sender of the small grey icon flashing idiotically in the corner should be.

That said... She isn't entirely sure whether Regina texting her is a_ good_ thing, either...

It has been an odd couple of weeks- which is saying something given how obscure life in the small town can be as it is- and she isn't altogether certain just where she stands at present with Storybrooke's formidable Mayor.

At first they had argued.

Soon after, arguing had led way to pure malice whilst they had fought tooth and nail; first over her election as town Sheriff, and subsequently any minor matter of business thereafter.

Then they'd started fucking.

It hadn't been a planned act- at least, she doesn't believe so- but simply the result of countless lingering glances and pent up aggression.

And an almost debilitating lust.

The first time had been rough; the Mayor having come for her after hours to demand answers in regards to her latest applications of the law, only to serve up her own twisted form of justice against the unforgiving steel bars of the cell in which the blonde had spent her first night in this godforsaken town.

The second time had been little different.

Rough.

Hard.

Insatiable.

Of course, that was several months ago now, and since then there_ have_ been the odd glimmers of gentleness here and there.

Indeed, she _had_ taken it upon herself that one time to crawl up onto the darker woman's bed and straddle that beautifully svelte frame simply to work her hands over the tense knots of muscle antagonizing the delectable brunette.

And Regina _had_ shown up at the Station after a rather public head to head with Gold, bearing coffee and a gentle hand to tame wind-mussed tresses.

But these moments are far and few between, and she imagines that deep down, they both know it's the way it has to be.

There has been too much bad blood shared between them to risk allowing a friendship bringing it all to the surface; to question.

She will settle for tolerance.

And sex.

... Only, over the past couple of weeks she hasn't been granted those things _either._

And worse... She hasn't the faintest idea _why_...

All she knows is that the rather pompous asshole on the- admittedly awesome- bike had shown up and whatever sweet, forbidden deal she'd had with the Mayor was suddenly no more.

Never mind that she has made a point on _several_ occasions to quite loudly express her explicit lack of interest when it comes to August W. Booth.

_Seriously?_

"Fuck."

The low expletive is something between a groan and a whisper, as she admonishes herself for thinking so pointlessly on her current predicament as it only serves to worsen the thrum working its way hatefully through her rum-addled mind.

"Shit."

The low thud of her forehead hitting the desk as she tries to shut out the world.

A world which smells deliciously of cinnamon; which is currently serving to make her both hungry and a little nauseous.

"Ugh... Ruby..."

She sighs as she forces tired, green eyes back open and surveys the large paper cup wearily.

She supposes she should be glad... Grateful at least... As she doesn't imagine many would have been as easy-going as the young brunette this morning, but then this is a quality she has always liked in the pretty little waitress ever since they were first acquainted.

As it is, she had been awoken this morning by a soft prodding at her arm; bringing her sluggishly round from her semi-comatose state to find herself naked and entangled within slender, rose-pale limbs. Pretty pink lips had moved above her languidly, causing her to frown as the English language slowly reintroduced itself to her liquored brain.

_"Get up, hun, we need to get to work."_

Hun... Not her favorite term of endearment- and certainly not one she would appropriate for use herself- but one that had seemed strangely, well,_ tolerable_ coming from Ruby, despite their sordid state.

The brunette had proceeded to grin as she had gone about the painful process of dragging herself out of bed, before directing her casually in the direction of her small en-suite shower; seemingly entirely unfazed by the nude state they had shared.

Nor by the small flicker of wariness to alight the blonde's eyes upon realizing that this now made it impossible to sneak from the room and escape, as has always been her preferred course of action following the deed.

No, she had taken it one step further and had offered a warm, sunny smile- once the Sheriff had come staggering from the steam misted bathroom- along with the offering of clean underwear and a shirt, and the promise of coffee awaiting them down in the Diner before the blonde shot off to work.

She had even given the older woman's hand a friendly squeeze upon parting; responding to Emma's low muttering of 'uh... Ruby... last night was...' with a shaking of her head and a request for the blonde to be still.

_"I like you, and I had fun. It's nothing more or less than that unless you want it to be. I'll see you later."_

"I like you and I had fun..."

God, when was the last time she herself saw things so simply...

"You're getting old, Swan.."

No. Not old. Just tired of the emotional baggage that tends to come with associating oneself with the human race.

"Oh god..."

This time her words come out in a definite groan, and she retracts the hand she'd begun extending towards the promise of sweet caffeine hastily; not sure if she's ready for such a sugary assault in her current fragile state.

She chuckles weakly as she supposes age might actually have something to do with it after all.

Sighing, and pulling herself together, she plucks her phone from the small stack of paper she's been negating to acknowledge so far this week and opens the message.

_My study, 9pm. Knock, don't ring the bell. _

Raising an eyebrow a the suggestion of a meeting, she finds herself willing to hope that she can at least find out what in the hell has the good Mayor rubbed the wrong way, even if she does end up taking care of more pressing matters by her own hand...

"Oh, christ..."

She rolls her eyes, though even in her hungover state, she finds herself a little amused at her body's insatiability.

It is something she has learnt simply to deal with over time.

Last night was simply a treat.

What she remembers of it, anyway.

Allowing a wry smile to touch her lips, she taps back a curt response.

_See you later. E._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Enjoy, review, you know the drill :)_

* * *

Coming to a halt before the Mayor's impressively gilded front door, the blonde hesitates for a moment before placing her fingers gently on the handle.

She is curiously frustrated with herself at present, and she wants to gather her thoughts, as the woman that waits for her within the merciful warmth of the mansion seems to pride herself on feeding off such weakness.

"Should have come straight from work..."

She mutters beneath her breath, as the tight denim of the black jeans she'd gone home to change into digs into her hips maddeningly... A concrete reminder that yes, she's invested herself deeply enough into this strange and turbulent relationship to put in a little effort.

_Not_ something she's all that thrilled about, to see the least.

Still.

What's done is done.

She may find herself irritated due to the fact that she's bothered to dress up tonight- or dress down, whatever you want to call it...- but her annoyance doesn't change the simple truth that she looks, well,_ good_.

Very good.

_Great, you've discerned you're quite the vixen tonight, now do you want to get inside before you begin losing appendages to frostbite?_

Giving in to the irritable bitching of her psyche, the Sheriff complies with a small smirk and shake of her head; pushing open the door with care so as not to allow the heavy wood to creak, and taking a step across the threshold into the warmth of the grand hallway.

Her attention flickers briefly to the landing up above, but she quickly scolds herself for her fanciful wish to spy the boy at this time of night.

Not that she'd have a clue what to say to him to explain just what _she_ might be doing here at this hour either.

Shuddering at the very idea of_ that_ conversation, she hurries swiftly towards the dim glow emanating from beneath the door to the darker woman's study; recognising the schizophrenic flickering of light to belong to the fire within.

Knocking at warm, honey maple softly, she complies obediently with the low request murmured from the other side of the door.

"Come."

* * *

When she looks up to regard the blonde, the Mayor finds that she is every bit as angry as she had feared.

With Emma absent from her company, she had been able to tell herself that she would be in firm control of her feelings during their meeting this evening, but, as she takes in that forever mischief-laced grin and the sultry attire that hugs the younger woman's frustratingly desirable physique, she finds herself wondering just how resolutely she might be able to stick to such a promise.

"You're late."

"... By like two minutes..."

The blonde sighs, glancing up at the large clock that hangs above the mantelpiece.

"To show up late is a sign of bad manners."

"... At least I _showed.._."

The Sheriff snaps, before shutting her mouth sharply; a little surprised at her own irate behaviour. Truth be told though, she feels she has a point. She has spent the last couple of weeks treated with nothing but disdain by the woman that sits before her, and- while she ordinarily finds an obscure sense of enjoyment in Regina's haughty ways- she has grown fairly tired of being spoken to as though she were nothing but an unpleasant discovery on the heel of the Mayor's sinfully sharp stilettos.

"Of course you showed."

Scarlet lips offer in response, and the flash of anger the sentiment garners from pretty green eyes is matched in the flash of perfect teeth these rose petals divulge.

Pushing herself from her desk, the brunette stalks over to her guest and holds out a hand; silently willing the younger woman to offer up hateful red leather.

Dark eyes linger on the deep merlot of the teasingly translucent sleeveless blouse beneath, before finding sooty lashes and musing cruelly.

"Are _all_ of your shirts as promiscuous, dear?"

"... Says the woman who gave me shit for wearing a polo neck the other day."

"Yes, well... Perhaps you are simply too easily influenced by those whose company you chose to seek."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means you spend a quiet weekend at home with Miss Blanchard and proceed to walk around town clad as though you're thinking of joining a nunnery... But after spending an evening with less desirable company, you deem it perfectly acceptable to offer up your body to any soul that might wish to take a gander... As well as those unwilling to be_ accosted_ with such sights."

Frowning, Emma crosses her arms uncomfortably across her chest.

"Less desirable company?"

"Miss Lucas."

"... Ruby?"

Her voice cracks as she utters the young waitress's name and she cringes at the fact. Finding the brunette's captivatingly dark gaze, she feels her stomach flip nauseatingly as she recognises the glittering spark of knowing that lies within those soulful coals, and swallows thickly.

"...What about Ruby?"

"Don't be coy, Sheriff."

"I'm not... I... I just don't see what Ruby has to do with any of this..."

"You don't?... Ah, now see, I would have thought you'd know more about Miss Lucas than most..."

"...How'd you figure that?"

"A mere observation, dear... But then I suppose the fact that you spent the night in that little wretch's_ bed_ doesn't mean the two of you had anything of value to _discuss_..."

"I... I mean...What?"

"Did you or did you not spend last night with Miss Lucas?"

"I... How did you...?"

"It's a _simple_ question, Sheriff."

Regina growls cattily, and the younger woman balks slightly as the brunette seems to be standing suddenly much too close. She is unsure what to say; sure from the darker woman's words that the Mayor already knows the answer to the question she offers.

Just _how_ Regina might have come by such knowledge, she doesn't know, but lying about her late night tryst will do her no good.

And... Really... Why lie?

Why find words of solace for the woman who has treated her with nothing but cruelty for the past couple of weeks?

Hell! Since she damn well _got_ here!?

Why lie about the fact that her lust for the brunette had led her astray when she had suddenly been denied such pleasures with no warning and through no discernible fault of her own?

She had told herself that her drunken rut with Ruby had had nothing to do with the intoxicating Mayor, but no sooner had she crossed the threshold into the room where she now stands- accosted with the rich scent of apples and spice- and she had known just how wrong such a notion had been.

She craves the brunette.

Wants her.

And it is taking every ounce of control she possesses to keep herself from lunging at the haughty bitch; tired of always- _always_- coming up the loser in their fucked up little power games.

"... Yes... I was with Ruby."

"... Sleeping amongst _dogs_ now? How very uncouth..."

"What do you_ want_, Regina?! What do you _want_ me to _say_?!"

"Don't use that tone with me, Miss Swan..."

"What tone?! Why not?! Who died and made_ you_ Queen?!"

"... Sheriff-"

"-_No!_ You know, you might be Mayor, Regina, but I'm the fucking Sheriff, okay? You can't keep treating me like _shit_! You-"

"-Oh, my dear! Come now! We _both_ know that entire election was a farce! You're no more fit to be Sheriff than you are a mother. You-"

"-How _dare_ you!?"

"Easily... Anyone fit to play a position of government in this town would have better instincts than to go fucking the local vermin-"

"-Don't you dare-"

"-Oh, but I do, dear! I do dare! You show up here in your provocative little outfit as though you imagine I was planning on allowing you to sully me with your filthy hands, when I know full well where they've been! You thought you could come round here and _expect_ something from me after crawling into bed with a headful of liquour and your satiation open for any willing to twist a finger up-"

"-_Stop!_ _Enough!_ Why the fuck _did_ you invite me here, then?!"

Emma yells; her cheeks pink, but whether with shame or rage, it's hard to discern.

She is furious at the hateful brunette for her derogatory words and insinuations, and it hurts her head as she tries to corral the violent emotions such goading garners.

But it aches elsewhere also.

And isn't that just the_ bitch_ of it all?!

The way that despicable, poisonous woman feeds that insatiable need that thrums between her legs with a fire she can't even begin to comprehend.

She has soul-searched enough to know that- like it or not- she is a glutton for punishment.

And Regina knows_ just_ how to give it to her.

Still... Arousal aside, she still has her dignity, and she'll be fucked if she's about to stand here and let the words to leave those sinfully full lips fly.

"_Why!?_"

"What did I tell you about your yelling at me?"

"Oh, shut up! Answer me! Ever since August got here you've been treating me just like you did before... Before... _This_! What is it?! Jealousy? I'm not_ yours_, Regina, and-"

"-Miss Swan, It has nothing to do with the man's sexual intentions, I assure you. Who you allow to fuck you while in a drunken haze is of little interest to me. You-"

"-Stop it! Why can't you just admit you're pissed about Ruby?!"

"I couldn't care less, dear."

"_Liar!_"

"Sheriff-"

The Mayor warns; her tone low and forbidding as she watches the anger fester and grow within the younger woman's fine features.

Her eyes flicker to the heavy rise and fall of translucent crimson as sharp, white teeth bare at her animalistically.

But she is the predator here.

The huntress.

The blonde is nothing but prey.

... Surely...

"-No! You know what?! I came here hoping to just get an answer! That's _all_ I wanted! I just wanted to know why you've been treating me like shit the last few weeks; and no! It's _not_ the way it's always been... This is _different_! I came here wanting to ask a simple question, and all I get is you telling me that I'm cheap, and worthless, and some sort of hussy! Well, _fuck you_! What does that say about_ your_ taste?!"

"... I_ beg_ your pardon!?"

"You heard me! Ha! You can hail down from that pedestal of yours all you like, Madame Mayor, but don't forget who started this! _You_ were the one that pressed your lips to mine! _You_ were the one that moaned my name that first time! _You_ were the one slipping her perfectly manicured nails into my jeans and begging me to spread my legs a little wider!"

"You stop this! You stop this _right_ now-"

"_You_ were the one that cried out against me, Regina! So tell me! After all the _crap_ you've spewed about me tonight, what does it say about_ you_ that you fucking loved my tongue between your legs?! That you moaned and begged and pleaded to be pleasured be a cheap little-"

But the rest is just a choked cry.

And then nothing but heavy breathing.

The Mayor looks down at her hands as if in slow motion.

If it had been possible, she would swear that what had started off as a simple, brutal shove had been tainted by the purple haze of her power from a time long gone.

But of course; such a thing is impossible.

As it is; her palms strike the Sheriff hard in the chest, as she strives to shut off the hateful drawl falling from those accursed pink lips.

It's just a push.

But it's a _hard_ push.

And the blonde stumbles backwards; her calves catching the low rim of the glass coffee table behind her.

But she doesn't stop there.

And then suddenly all is fragments and shards, as the glittering cruel surface breaks open, and the Sheriff falls through that pristine web of glass.

The ringing echo of splintered pieces.

And then nothing but that wet, heavy breathing.

Looking up from her guilty hands, Regina surveys the damage with chemical adrenaline; her eyes sharp as they fall upon the fallen blonde.

Slashes of scarlet blossom and flow from pale, bare arms; trickling lazily to drip onto the floor.

Alabaster flesh mars sinful black denim; accented by ruby roses.

A web of crimson paints one of those curiously defined cheekbones.

"Emma...?"

Low. Tentative. Wary.

But there's something else, too.

Something darker.

And as she gazes down at the result of her anger, the brunette is reminded of her former power and prowess, and she understands that this isn't the aftermath of their altercation.

But a possible beginning.

The look she receives from impossibly diluted coals speaks of a similar understanding.

Breathing heavily; her mind racing as she picks up the coppery scent of the younger woman's blood; the Mayor crouches down purposefully slowly to regard the blonde darkly.

"You look a state..."

"... And you love it."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Oh, satan's balls, this fic is killing me! This is a storyline/ style I've wanted to try out for so long now, but am finding it really hard to work with in juxtaposition with my usual scenes with these two. The purpose of this story was to try and experiment with something a little more raw/ less emotional/ more kink led... I'm just trying to refrain from getting them to 'sort through their issues' as that's become habit lately! I'm really unsure of how this reads, and, if it isn't well received, the next chapter will be the final chapter of this particular fic, so just let me know what you think :) _

_Also, a big thanks to **stormybrowneyes** for her help with the dialogue for some of this :)_

* * *

_"You look a state..."_

_"... And you love it."_

Emma's response is guttural, but her breathing remains slightly shallow. Other than this, she shows no further signs of being unable to tolerate what pain she must be feeling. Regina observes her silently from her crouched- predatory- position; eyes flashing with something wicked as she watches the younger woman's tongue slip to the side of her mouth to touch experimentally against the small trail of crimson that weeps from her cheek down to her lips.

The narrow freshet the Sheriff tastes is one of three; its sisters giving way to the gravity that plays mistress over their position, and fanning out rather than down to seep into long hair and catch on a simple, silver earring.

"...Just_ look_ what you made me go and do..."

The brunette hisses, but her eyes glitter feverishly, and when Emma responds by simply looking up at her through those insolent, sooty lashes- flickering her tongue slowly against her teeth to leave a faint smear of diluted pink against enviable white- she feels her sex clench in response and adopts a slow smile that speaks of nothing but danger.

"You should be more careful as to what you let escape your mouth, Miss Swan... Some of what you just said would have been... Quite... Hurtful... Should I actually harbour any _interest_ in your idiot ramblings..."

She punctuates her words with two sharp jabs of sleek varnish against tattered denim, garnering a pained hiss through clenched teeth.

"Why? None of what I said isn't true... The fact that you don't want to _hear_ it is your_ own_ problem..."

The Mayor snarls in response, but takes a small amount of pleasure in the strained quality to the younger woman's voice; Emma's gravelly scoffing reminding her of the last warning growls emitted by a wolf coming to the slow realisation that it's been cornered.

"Bold words for a woman in your current position..."

"Why? You've had me on my back before, Regina, as well as in many other positions... You don't scare me..."

"Hmm... Crass, but then I've come to expect little more from you... This_ is_ the first time, however, that the colour has drained from your face quite so noticeably..."

"Worried about me?"

"Never."

"Good... Perhaps it's the company..."

"Excuse me?"

"Being in the vicinity of an Ice Queen and all..."

A small tick to the side of the brunette's jaw, and she leans a little further forwards; fingers digging in hard at a long laceration to the Sheriff's thigh, and her tone dripping with poison.

"Well,_ dear,_ I am flattered that you should think of me as royalty... But one wonders what that might make _you_...?"

"... Bored...?"

The disbelieving arch of a perfectly-maintained brow, and then Regina decides she's had enough of letting the younger woman talk to her in such a fashion. Dark eyes flashing maliciously as a self-satisfied little smirk graces the blonde's bloodstained lips, she takes a sudden hold of the paler woman's ankle and rises to her feet. Yanking hard to illicit a choked cry, she pulls the Sheriff free of what remains of the coffee table; the frame parting aside and fractured shards of glass catching and slicing pale skin as the blonde's shirt rides up.

"_Bitch!_"

This time Emma's tone speaks quite clearly of pain, and she snarls up at the Mayor through gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

"You heard me!"

Another vicious yank- serving to pull the younger woman completely free of the littered glass, while embedding a few sharper pieces into vulnerable flesh- as the brunette hisses angrily.

"You will_ not_ speak to me in such a way under_ my_ roof!"

Her lip curls as she notes the way Emma grimaces despite trying, _oh so hard_, to save face.

Her smirk doesn't last long, however, as she is both smaller than the blonde, and unsteady on her feet in her sudden rage. As a result, she is given a fraction of a second to form the vague decision that stilettos are perhaps not the footwear of choice when it comes to dragging one's nemesis across a hard stone floor, before she over-balances and stumbles down ontop the Sheriff.

"_Ah!_"

Ah sharp yelp from beneath her, and the Mayor covers any momentary embarrassment with a dark chuckle as she digs cruel fingers into the soft flesh that breaks her fall. Despite her earlier words to the contrary, she has long since grown to relish the feeling of the blonde's lithe frame beneath her own, and, as she looks down unto gritted teeth and pain-laced stormy green her breathing becomes a little less even, and she swiftly dips her head to trail her tongue across the streak of scarlet that mars the younger woman's cheek.

She suspects the sudden intake of breath that pushes the Sheriff's scantily clad chest against her own has little to do with pain.

"You have a lot of nerve speaking to me like that..."

"Oh yeah? What about how you treat _me_?!"

"That's different."

"How?"

"You deserve it."

"Fuck you..."

The Sheriff's response is more or less predictable, and Regina saves herself the bother of pretending to find shock in those crass words and proceeds immediately to punishment. Crashing her lips forcefully against the blonde's, she bites down hard, without warning; smiling when this does nothing to deter the younger woman's heated reciprocation.

She has continuously found herself reminded of her various playmates back in that other world- that_ better_ world- since the two of them started their little sordid affair, and, as she thinks on this now, her teeth work a little harder until they pierce flesh.

Back in the Enchanted Forest, her carnal activities had ranged from allowing those fortuitous enough to play her bedmate to obediently worship her, to the hard, furious fucking of angry, insatiable lust. True, there had been several of her lovers- like Graham, for instance- for whom the attraction and desire had been a rather one-sided affair, but _those_ individuals had simply required a little extra... Persuasion. The majority, however, had fallen to their knees before her willingly- perhaps only to regret the act in due course- but desperate to serve in that most visceral of roles.

She is unsure just where to place _Emma_ in that curious spectrum, however.

Despite being physically superior in terms of strength; the blonde has allowed herself to be pushed and shoved behind locked doors more or less to the Mayor's content... But she has done so with a snarl, and a good amount of cunning so as to be rewarded with her _own_ way from time to time. She has been willing, and curiously accepting of being manhandled into obedience, but she has yet to qualify as- what the brunette would call- 'submissive'.

And she can _give_ as good as she gets.

Except...

Well, except for in their current circumstance right _now_.

It had been an accident- at least, an accident that the younger woman should fall through the glass of the coffee table- but the result is proving to be most intriguing to the darker woman. Once or twice in the past now she has closed a hand around the Sheriff's throat to be met with a flicker of disquiet in green eyes, but a refusal to vocalise any fear, and there have been _several_ instances in which she has marked the blonde with teeth and nails... But _this?_ Well _this_ is something new entirely.

Emma bleeds freely before her, just as though she were a servant girl requested to entertain her Queen...

And she likes it.

"... 'Fuck me', Miss Swan?... Oh, there will be a time for that later-"

"-I thought you were scared of me sullying you with my filthy ways or whatever-"

"-It's rude to interrupt, dear..."

"Pretty sure pushing someone through your damn furniture is rude too..."

"... Are you still whining about that?"

The brunette smirks as unbridled anger alights the younger woman's sharp features; lips and cheek bloody, but eyes bright and daring her to continue with this most delicate of dances.

It is a tango they have almost perfected; its origins founded long before either of them had taken the other in a sexual manner.

"I'm bleeding..."

"I've noticed... Now let me take a better look..."

"Huh?"

"... Roll over. Get on your stomach. And shut up."


End file.
